Ok. So I admit it. It happened and I survived. Turned out the ground that I rested upon wasn't a house after all. I don't even think I am resting. I long to move, to reach for things, places, rythms and people to see them more clearly.
I didn't even cry when the keys were handed over to the quiet young man with the smile in the corner of his mouth. The shell of my past his future. Maybe some things are just to basic to grasp in one mind: like the passing of time, the passing of houses, the passing of people.
As for now I think I have a bit of a crush on the future.
to come: notes on the currently ongoing summer
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once i told a friend that the only assets we could have in private are memories and secrets. so many times the value of the are fluctuated... maybe it's just a strong sense of possession... maybe...
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